


losing you is what i'm afraid of

by littlecreature



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO SHIPS THESE TWO IDIOTS, Anyway it’s just some random post season 2 fluff, F/M, Fluff, Post Season 2, TW: disordered eating, i love them, just mentioned at the start tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 17:35:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19089823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlecreature/pseuds/littlecreature
Summary: a discussion of food and the future, however brief.





	losing you is what i'm afraid of

**Author's Note:**

> i’ve wanted to write something dorvin centric since... since i finished part two. have this ball of fluff. 
> 
> title comes from marina’s “believe in love.”

“Hilda told me to come see if you’re alright.” 

 

Melvin lets the main door of the mortuary close behind him, joining the red headed weird sister on the veranda. He has two bowls of soup balanced in his arms, and he places one on the bannister beside where Dorcas stands, keeping the other one for himself. 

 

“You should eat something. It’s good, you know?” 

 

She can’t deny that it smells anything short of delicious. Yet she valiantly attempts to not watch him start to eat. Ignores the scent of it. Chicken broth. Heaven damnit; Agatha must have told the Spellman witch what her favourite was. 

 

“I’ll just puke it up in an hour. I can still —“

 

“You can still taste the poison, I know.” 

 

She runs a hand through her hair ( narrowly missing the bowl he’d set aside for her ). He wasn’t wrong. She could — or at least, she thinks she can. Nobody else seems to have been so affected by this. Not this far down the line. All of the little kids that had survived were even doing better — they played when the surviving tutors weren’t trying to scrape together a semblance of a routine for all of them. It worked, for the most part. But she’s not as taken with simple yet flashy tricks that the kids are. 

 

She drops her head; staring at the grass that lay beyond the wood. She hears his spoon clatter against the bowl and him shuffling about. 

 

His hand on her back. She doesn’t flinch — simply relaxes. He stands behind her, arms wrapping around her middle. She can feel his lips against the skin between her neck and shoulder and she’s never been so grateful to find solace in another person. Even if it’s someone she never expected. 

 

“Fine. Don’t eat right now. Tomorrow — could you try?” 

 

She nods reluctantly. She’ll cross that bridge when she comes too it. Taking everything day to day seems to be the best option at the moment. 

 

“Stay with me tonight?” She pleads, with her eyes squeezed shut, desperate to change the subject. He obliges, as he’s known too. 

 

“How can I say no?” He answers, removing one arm to gently shove the neglected bowl away from them. “At least come inside, Dora. You’ll get cold out here. The little kids want to hear some more stories before bed.” She cracks a weary smile at that — she’s never thought of herself as anything close to maternal; but there’s something about a mass homicide that draws unseen qualities out of people. 

 

“The one’s from the book or something we make up as we go?” 

 

“As long as it’s not Agatha recounting one hundred ways to string up a man, I think they’ll listen to anything.” 

 

They both laugh — her sister, despite everything, hadn’t lost her edge, or her interest in all things macabre. She stays twisted up in his arms. Their relationship was possibly the strangest thing to pop up from the coven’s decimation — Zelda taking over as high priestess had been expected, as well as Prudence still being on the hunt for her father. 

 

She had been looking for some alone time, on the very same veranda — he had been looking for much the same. There had been something unspoken between them since the night the angel’s attacked and it was only then that they only told each other that yes, _they felt something_. 

 

They hadn’t planned to tell anyone, but Agatha had broken the news anyway — remarking that she knew it was more than a desperate fling, because she knew they’d been sharing a bed and she hadn’t heard any fucking, so it had be more serious. 

 

She had been right. 

 

“Once the coven is fully back on its feet... I want to go to Italy.” 

 

She hasn’t even told Agatha — but she knows her sister is pulling her own plans together for when they’re no longer needed. Once the coven has returned to it’s glory; there won’t be anything here for them. They’ve grown beyond anything they can be taught. 

 

Dorcas herself had been working closely with the High Priestess, working to get her a spot working at the necropolis, under the new Anti-Pope — to no one’s surprise, a witch. The council hadn’t been doing too hot after the fall of Lucifer. Things were looking up for the women of the religion ever since their attention was caught by the new Queen of Hell. Dorcas often wondered how much of a hand that Zelda had in that — they seemed to commune often. Sacred revelation or not. 

 

“That sounds good.” He answers, not really thinking much on it — briefly wondering if when that time comes, it will be over for them. She won’t want any baggage following her. Does he tense up? Perhaps slightly. 

 

“I want you to come with me, Melvin.” She continues and he holds her closer. Thankfully, his brief wonderings had been wrong. She still wants him. Yet, he’ll still wonder why. He’s punching. Agatha, despite her generally lax attitude towards him, has made that perfectly clear. 

 

“I’ll go where you go.” 

 

Even if, just now, that means back into the mortuary. 


End file.
